It Started with a Confession
by ThisLoveIsHopeless
Summary: There are little fragments of each one of us, peppered throughout the lives of others, seamlessly intertwined among their paths. Chloe Beale is a metaphor, my metaphor, and more hopelessly intermingled with my path than I ever thought possible.
1. Chapter 1

_It started with a confession. _

I'd like to say it'd been planned, but I'd be lying. It wasn't whispered across the darkness as we confided our deepest secrets to one another. It wasn't eloquent or rehearsed – if I'm honest, it was almost entirely accidental.

What you have to understand about Chloe Beale is that she can just seem to make me _do _things. She barely even has to bat an eyelash and she knows I'd go running out for ice cream at 3am if she asked. So, in retrospect, being curled up together on her bed after one too many glasses of what she'd so inventively named 'The Chloe', I should have known that I was a goner. Hook, line and sinker.

"Do you have a crush on anyone?" She said it so softly as her head lay in the crook of my shoulder that I probably could have ignored it, pretended that I hadn't heard her whispered question. But, of course, that would have meant I'd have had to have controlled the choked laugh that escaped my throat at the irony of her question. "What? Hey, don't laugh at me! This is what you're supposed to do at sleepovers – talk about boys and drink alcohol. We've already got the alcohol covered, so spill, Mitchell. Is there a boy that makes you go all weak at the knees?"

"I'm not laughing, sorry, you just caught me off guard. But nope, definitely not. Zero. Nada. None."

"Oh come on, there's got to be somebody that you like."

"I didn't say that there wasn't." As she lifted her head from my shoulder, her brow furrowed in confusion, I realised I'd made a mistake.

"What? You're just confusing me now, Becs."

"I know, sorry, I'm just messing with you. It's doesn't matter." I tried my best to smile down at her convincingly, but clearly, she wasn't giving up.

"Oh my god, Beca, I can see it written all over your face - you're totally crushing! Tell me, now!" Throwing a leg across me to straddle my hips, she tickled me furiously, "Tell me his name!" What happened next, I'm not particularly proud of – but in my defence, I was practically being tortured. "Jesus, Chloe, I don't like a boy. I don't like any boy, in fact! I'm gay, okay? Now, will you get the hell of off me?"

I don't remember the look on her face after the words left my mouth. Mostly, I remember the overwhelming regret that hit me as I realised that I'd just messed up quite possibly the best thing that'd ever happened to me. She didn't say anything as I pulled my knees into my chest, promising myself that this time wouldn't be the same. Maybe we could be okay. Maybe she wouldn't hate me. Maybe this time would be different.

* * *

_"Hey, Beca, are you okay?" She walked towards me, all little black dress and bright green eyes. Maybe it was the three glasses of wine I'd drank, but right in that moment, I didn't think I'd ever seen anything so beautiful._

_"Yeah, I'm good. You should go enjoy the party."_

_"How can I enjoy the party when my best friend is sat by herself looking like someone just killed her puppy?" Emma always did have a way with words. _

_"I'm okay, Em, honestly, it's nothing."_

_"Ah, so there is something! Come on, you know you can tell me anything." It wasn't all that weird really, how fast I had let Emma into my life – I had no reason to think that she'd hurt me. But that didn't make it any less terrifying to tell her that the real reason I was so upset was because she'd been flirting with some guy all night and I hated it; that, actually, I hated it whenever she flirted with anyone. For a second, I thought that maybe it wouldn't be so bad if she knew. And that second was all it took._

_"Look, if I tell you something, do you promise it won't change anything?"_

_"Of course it won't, Beca, just tell me." _

_"Okay, um, yeah. I'm gay, Em, I like girls."_

_Sometimes a second is all it takes. She never spoke to me again._

* * *

I'm not really sure how long I sat there with knees pulled in close, my face buried in my hands. I didn't even realise I'd started crying until Chloe carefully reached out her hand to wipe a tear from my cheek.

"Chloe, don't, okay? I get it. You don't have to pretend that this okay. I'll go." I pulled away from where her hand still lay on my cheek, moving towards the door, shooting her a defeated look as she caught my arm and pulled me back towards her.

"What're you talking about? Why would you think it wouldn't be okay?"

"Of course it isn't okay! Nothing's going to be the same anymore, it can't be."

"Why can't it be? Beca, you're my best friend. This changes nothing."

"I just… I don't know." I reached to wipe the tears now falling from my eyes, leaving a dark black smudge across my hand. "You're supposed to hate me. You have every right to hate me."

"I could never hate you, Becs, especially not over something like this. I swear, this doesn't change anything." Still holding my wrist, she pulled me back to sit on the bed beside her. "Beca, look at me."

"I can't, Chloe. I can't look you in the eye and believe that this doesn't change anything."

"Then don't look at me, just listen. You're an amazing person, and who you love doesn't make you any less of a person. Nothing is going to change between us, and I'm sure as hell not going anywhere." She ran her hand down my arm, intertwining our fingers and gently squeezing my hand in hers, giving me just enough courage to look up at her for the first time since my confession.

"You're really okay with this?" My voice caught in my throat, barely a whisper.

"Of course I am," she smiled down at me, and seemed to be contemplating something before lightly adding with a giggle, "God, sometimes I don't even know if I'm entirely straight." Tugging my hand, she moved back toward the head of the bed, "Now come on - sleep. We're drunk, overly emotional, and it's almost 4am. Sleep"

Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe she said it to make me feel better, but as I felt her arms wrap lazily around my waist, I couldn't get my words out of my mind. "I don't even know if I'm entirely straight." If Chloe liked girls, this was a whole different ball game. I was screwed from the start, really.

It started with a confession. Not mine, _hers. _


	2. Chapter 2

"She was wrong for treating you the way she did. You know that, right?" It'd been just over a week since bad judgement and a little too much wine had turned my world upside down, and Chloe has been telling the truth; things really hadn't changed.

"I don't know. I guess. Maybe." When I say that things hadn't changed; what I mean is that things hadn't changed beside the fact that Chloe was now trying to coax information about Emma out of me at any opportunity. Eventually, after I'd realised that she really wasn't going anywhere, I'd told her why I was so scared about her finding out, and of course, the reassurances started there.

"What do you mean, maybe? Of course she was!"

"I mean that maybe she wasn't." I really, really didn't want to have this conversation right now, especially not after the two bottles of wine we'd consumed. Leaning her head on my shoulder in what had now become our customary position, she linked her fingers through mine. "Can we please just not talk about this, Chlo?"

"No, Becs, please talk to me. I can't understand why you think that what she did was okay, or why you thought I would hate you." She looked up at me, and I just lost it. Chloe has these insanely beautiful blue eyes, but that's not their real charm. They just have this intensity about them, like her entire past is crammed into this one tiny space, and it just hits you. Every. Single. Time.

"I just…ugh, I hate how you can make me tell you things like this," I sighed, looking down at where she know smiled up at me in silent triumph. "Look, you're going to think that this sounds really stupid, but just let me say it, okay? The first crush I ever had was on my 3rd grade teacher, but back then I didn't really understand any of it. As I got older, I realised that liking girls wasn't really considered 'normal', but I'd never really thought about it properly until what happened with Emma last year. I hadn't really had much problem telling people up until then – most of my friends knew – but after that, I came to college and you're the first person I've told. She made me feel like it was wrong; that what I was feeling was wrong and that she had every reason to hate me. And I started to believe it. I guess, maybe, that it would be okay if you were to feel uncomfortable around me know, because I get why you might think that I had a crush on you or something, which I don't by the way." Lies. "Don't get me wrong, I'm so glad that you chose to stick around, but I really wouldn't blame you if you didn't." I looked down for the first time to where her eyes were glassed slightly over with tears. "Hey, whoa, don't cry, I'm sorry." For what were, frankly, the scariest 30 seconds of my life, she remained completely silent, her expression neutral as she stared back at me. _This is it, _I thought, _I've really gone and done it now. _

"We should have sex." _Sorry, what?! _

"What? Don't be stupid, Chlo."

"I'm serious, Beca. It'd stop you thinking that I'm judging all of the time." This had to be a trick. Surely she was just trying to prove that I did, in fact, have a crush on her.

"Chloe, you're drunk."

"I don't care! I'm serious. We should have sex." I looked at her, her expression completely serious.

"Chloe, if you're trying to prove a point, don't. Please."

"I've got nothing to prove, silly."

Alcohol and poor judgement, that's all it was. A hell of a lot of alcohol, and _very _poor judgement. That's why, all of a sudden, her lips were on mine. That's why her hands were in my hair, tugging me impossibly closer.

When I'd imagined kissing Chloe Beale, it wasn't like this. I didn't imagine it to be alcohol-fuelled and desperate, the way that it was as her lips pressed hungrily against mine. I also didn't imagine, even for a second, that I would be the one to pull away.

"Chloe, stop, we can't do this. You're drunk and this is just going to screw everything up."

"Beca, relax. We're both drunk and this is going to screw anything up. Now shut up and kiss me." In my opinion, I can't really be blamed for what happened next. I tried, and failed, to stop her in her tracks. I tried, and I think that alone is sufficient to say that none of this is my fault.

What you have to understand about Chloe Beale is that she can just seem to make me _do _things. So when she drunkenly tugged my shirt over my head, I really didn't have much choice in the matter.


	3. Chapter 3

Chloe Beale is a tornado.

A tornado can, in theory, pick up a person, an object, a _thing, _and carry it along on its destructive path, only to set it back down again, virtually unharmed. Virtually. But, that's the thing, isn't it? How do you measure the degree to which something is unharmed? Chloe Beale is a tornado. Destructive, unpredictable, and utterly devastating.

"Pizza or Thai food?"

"Chlo."

"Unless you want to order Chinese?"

"Chloe."

"I don't have take-out menus for anywhere else, Becs, it'll have to be one of those."

"Jesus, can you stop talking about the goddamn food for a second?" My voice came out harsher than intended, and she turned from where she stood at her window, looking almost hurt.

"Um, okay? Is everything alright?"

"I, um… we need to talk about what happened last week."

"Oh." That was the first and only time that Chloe lost her composure that day - ever the actress. Almost a week after _that night, _neither of us had so much as acknowledged what had happened. I'd like to think that Chloe was trying to lessen the awkwardness between us by not bringing it up, but part of me was convinced that she was so disgusted by the idea of sleeping with me, that she didn't _want _to remember.

"Yeah." Sitting opposite me on the bed that I loved for all of the wrong reasons, she looked at me with what I could only describe as determination, delicately infused with an eyeful of pity.

"What do you want to know?" What did I want to know? I wanted to know everything. I wanted to know why she felt the sudden compulsion to jump my bones just because she'd had a couple of glasses of wine. I wanted to know if she felt that same compulsion sober, though I highly doubted it. I wanted to know how the _hell _she was so okay with all of this. So, of course, I communicated this in the most articulate way possible: "I don't know."

"Well, did it mean anything to you?"

"That's not fair. You don't get to ask me that." I looked down at my hands, wishing that I hadn't brought it up. But I had, albeit stupidly, and I needed answers. "Did it mean anything to you?"

"No, but…" Her lips kept moving but I didn't hear what she said next. I couldn't. Okay, don't get me wrong here, I'm not some naïve, starry-eyed teenager who thinks that sex always _means _something. Sex happens, especially random drunken college sex, and it's not a big deal (apparently). I understand this. It's not even as if I felt some sort of fireworks, or whatever else you're supposed to feel the first time you sleep with someone. What bothered me was that, while yes, this was technically drunken college sex, it most certainly wasn't random, and it just should have meant something. It had to. "Bec, it's not that it didn't mean _anything, _but all it meant was that we were drunk and I'm really comfortable around you. Comfortable enough for that to happen and it not to effect what we have."

"Oh." I tried to cover the vague sense of loss in my voice, failing miserably. "Oh," I offered again, my voice marginally stronger.

"Beca, I didn't want to hurt y-"

"So, what _are _you?" I cut her off, the insensitivity in my voice surprising me, but I had every right to ask the question.

"What _am _I? I… um, I'm straight."

"Oh. I just thought, because of what you said a couple of weeks ago, about not knowing…" I trailed off, my voice uncertain again.

"I didn't for a while, but I know now. I'm straight; I guess I'm just a little over friendly when I'm drunk. I don't regret it, Bec, but I'm not gay."

"Okay."

"Beca, you're my best friend, and I love you. The last thing I want to do is hurt you, but I don't have feelings for you."

"You're not hurting me, Chloe; I don't have feelings for you either." _Liar. _"I guess I just wanted to stop avoiding the subject." Plastering a smile on my face, I forced myself to meet her eyes, determined to prove that I was okay with this. "It didn't mean anything to me, don't worry. It was just sex, right?"

Something in her eyes told me she didn't believe me, but she hid it well, laying her head against my shoulder in her usual fashion. "I'm sorry, Becs," she whispered, and after a second, "Are we okay?"

"Yeah," I said quietly, forcing my voice not to crack. It's all I had left to say.

* * *

"She shot you down, just like that?"

"Way to make me feel better, Jess. Yeah, she shot me down."

"Wow, I'm sorry, Becs, I know this must suck." Not long after what I like to call 'the night of the confessions', I'd broken down to Jesse and told him everything, needing someone besides Chloe to talk to, someone who could help me process what was going on in my head. Since starting Barden, Jesse and I had gotten a lot closer than I'd expected, and God was I thankful for him in that moment. "Are you sure she isn't just scared to mess things up between you?"

"Nope, I'm pretty sure she's just straight."

"But she had sex with a girl. And she said she wasn't sure."

"Yeah, but then she changed her mind. It's done, Jess, there isn't anything I can do."

"Well, it's her loss." I snorted. Yeah, _right. _"I'm serious, Beca. She's an idiot to let you go."

"She didn't 'have me' in the first place. I mean, she could have, she still could, but she doesn't know that. And even if she did, she's made it quite clear that she doesn't want me." I was done with this now; talking about it, over-thinking.

"Want to get pizza and kick my ass at Maria Kart?"

"Jesse Swanson, have I ever told you that you're my hero?"

* * *

Come to think of it, Chloe Beale is not a tornado. Because, in theory, you can escape a tornado. Even in theory, you can't escape Chloe Beale.

"Hello?"

"Beca, can you come over?"

"Um, Jesse's here, is it important?"

"I need you."

"I'll be there in 5 minutes." I looked at Jesse pleadingly, mouthing sorry as placed a kiss on my forehead and rose to leave.

"I love you, Beca."

"See you soon, Chloe."


	4. Chapter 4

"Chloe, this had better be serious or I swear, I will…damn, Chloe, what's wrong?" She opened the door and stood opposite me, makeup smeared down her face from where she'd obviously been crying. I walked past her into the room as she closed the door, still completely silent. "Seriously, Chlo, what's going on?"

Sitting on the edge of her bed, she looked up to where I was stood, her eyes filling with fresh tears, "I'm sorry, Bec, I didn't know who else to call." I wanted to walk away; I wanted to be angry at her for rejecting me, but I couldn't. Seeing that pain in her eyes, any resolve that I had left was completely obliterated. I couldn't let her hurt like that.

"Hey, Chlo, look at me," I sat down beside her, stretching an arm around her shoulders as she turned to face me, "You're okay, everything's gonna be okay. Just tell me what's wrong." At the moment, it occurred to me that I'd never seen her like this. Sure, I'd seen her when she'd been having a bad day, or when we were alone and she allowed herself to relax away from her upbeat persona, but I'd never seen her like this, completely laid bare. I wouldn't consider it my finest moment, but part of me enjoyed it. Definitely not my finest moment. It was just, seeing her so vulnerable, and knowing that I was the one she'd called, it almost gave me hope; but hope in this context meaning nothing more than my complete self-indulgence in my infatuation's fantasy.

* * *

I'm not sure how long we sat there, her tears forming mascara blackened pools in my collarbones, before she spoke, barely a whisper. "I'm sorry, Beca."

"Chloe, I told you, it's okay. I'm your friend; this is kind of in the job description."

"No, not for that. I'm just, I'm so sorry for everything."

"You're gonna have to be more specific, Chlo." I'd be lying if I said I didn't know what she was getting at, but I wasn't about to let myself believe that this was going to turn into a confession of her undying love for me. When it came to Chloe, scepticism had become my default setting.

"I knew, Beca, I've known since almost the moment that we met, and I still did it. What type of person does that make me?" Knew what? Now she really had lost me.

"What do you mean, you knew? Knew what?"

"That you like me." It was barely audible, but she knew I'd heard.

"I, um…" Before I could force my brain to form the words that were so desperately escaping it in that moment, she started to speak again, silencing me.

"You don't have to say anything, Beca. You liking me isn't the problem, the problem is the fact that I took complete advantage of you, and now I've messed everything up." She buried her head further into the crook of my neck, biting her lip to stop the tears from resurfacing. "I really didn't mean for this to happen, Beca, I'm so sorry."

"You haven't messed things up, Chloe, I promise, we're okay." I knew it was a lie as soon as it left my lips, but that would have to be enough. A lie that you wish was true is surely better than a truth that you wish was a lie.

* * *

"Where do we go from here?" She asked as she lifted her eyes to meet mine, a mixture of concern and doubt painted across her face.

"Um, back to normal, I guess?" It felt unfair, almost wrong, for her to ask me that question when both of us knew she had the upper hand in the situation. Though, in hindsight, maybe in her own head she didn't think so. Either way, it wasn't a question I could answer truthfully; the truth was a thing that neither of us could have handled at that moment.

"Are you okay with that?"

"It's better than losing you completely."

"This is all my fault, Bec, I'm so sorry."

"Seriously, Chlo, stop apologising. We're okay. We're gonna be okay." It almost sounded convincing, even to my own ears, but the doubt was still visible in her eyes. "Hey, Chlo, stop looking at me like that. We're stronger than this, you know that."

"Hmmm," she murmured as she once again buried her head against my chest, "I'm still so sorry."

"I know you are, Chlo, I know." Sometimes you've just got to take what you get, and in that moment, I knew that talking about it wasn't going to change anything: she was my best friend, and she cared about me, and she was sorry she'd hurt me, but she didn't want me, and she didn't love me. When I spoke, I didn't know whether I was trying to convince her, or convince myself. "We're okay, Chloe."

"You promise?"

"I promise." If Chloe Beale is a love story, she's Juliet, she's Cleopatra, she's Eurydice. But Chloe Beale isn't a love story, or if she is, she's certainly not mine.

"You're my best friend, Beca."

"Mhmm."

"I really am sorry."

"I know."

"Wanna watch the new episode of Dexter?"

"You always know how to win me over, loser."

* * *

It's a strange thing, hope – in a pitch black room, hope seeps under the doorway; it shines through the keyhole. What Chloe didn't realise, what maybe even I didn't realise, was that even the tiniest amount of hope ripples like a pebble in water.

_"I don't even know if I'm entirely straight."_

_"I need you."_

_"I love you, Beca."_

For a long time, my room was the type of darkness that envelopes you; the type of darkness which makes you wonder if the rest of the world even exists anymore. But now, that'd changed. It'd changed because of Chloe. No matter how dark it got, Chloe's light still shone through the keyhole, breaking the darkness in a way that I didn't even know was possible. Looking back, that was probably my undoing.


	5. Chapter 5

Waking up in Chloe Beale's arms is an experience I've almost become accustomed to - the abundance of sleepovers she forced me to attend made sure of that – but not one of those times could have prepared me for that morning. Nothing could have prepared me for the way her legs tangled with my own, and the way that her arm wrapped protectively around my waist as our bodies locked together in perfect tessellation. I tried not to tense as I adjusted to my surroundings, realising that we must've fallen asleep watching TV the night before, but any effort I made to remain still was to no avail as I heard a low murmuring from behind me. "Mmmm, morning, Becs."

"Hey, Chlo, wanna release me from your death grip so I can go pee?" Admittedly, not the most articulate response I could've given, but suddenly, I felt terrifyingly claustrophobic. Much of what happened from there was a blur of hurried actions as I grabbed my bag and iPod, mumbling an excuse about an early class as I headed for the door.

"You don't have class today, Beca, it's Sunday."

"Oh, um, I have an assignment due tomorrow; I should go get that finished."

"You could stay."

"Why?"

"Um," her expression faltered, just barely, before she reverted to usual manufactured smile. "Never mind, I'm being silly. You should go study."

"Um, okay. I'll see you around, I guess." I didn't look back, it was easier that way.

* * *

"This is Chloe, leave a message and I'll call you back!" Chloe hadn't answered her phone in two days, and contrary to what I would have thought, not seeing her did not make anything easier, not at all.

"Hey, Chlo, it's Beca. Again. You're starting to worry me. Call me back, please?" I hung up after probably the eighth or ninth message I'd left over the past 48 hours, and decided it was time for more drastic measures.

"Aubrey Posen."

"Aubrey, have you heard from Chloe today?"

"I'm not your relationship councillor, Beca."

"I'm just really worri-, wait… what?"

"I said, I'm not your relationship councillor. If you two have fallen out, which I assume you have considering she hasn't left her room for two days, then you have to sort it out between yourselves."

"So she's okay? She won't return my calls."

"Then I'm guessing you screwed up," of course Aubrey would think that, my status as public enemy #1 made sure of that.

"I didn't do anything wrong! I don't even understand what you think I could have done."

"I know that you slept together, Beca." Pardon me? "And I know that she's now holed up in her room, refusing to answer your calls; from where I'm standing, that looks like you screwed up."

"Wait, how do you even know that? I swear, I didn't do anything, if anything, she was worried that she had hurt me."

"Look, Beca, I don't know what's going on with you two, but fix it."

"But, I –"

"Fix it, Beca." The line went dead before I could argue back, _brilliant._

* * *

"Chloe, please open up." I'd been stood at her door for almost 10 minutes, knocking and begging her to let me in. To anybody else, I might have looked crazy – I wasn't even 100% sure she was in there – but I knew she was behind that door, I could feel it, and I needed to know she was okay. "Chloe, please, I just want to talk to you."

Part of me regrets what I did next, because there are some things that can never be unseen, but I know that if I hadn't done it, the situation would have been inconceivably worse. I'm not sure why it hadn't occurred to me earlier to try the handle, considering she almost always left her door unlocked, maybe I had wanted her to let me in herself; to choose to see me.

The scene I was met with was all wrong. Her closed eyes, her shallow breathing, all _wrong. _Chloe is an unfathomably light sleeper - something as inaudible as a light drizzle on her window pain is enough to rouse her from her sleep – so my incessant knocking should have more than done the trick. As I walked slowly toward her bed, I knew it was all wrong. Her chest rose and fell in slow deep breathes, but she didn't flinch as I said her name softly, and then louder as I approached. "Chlo. Chloe, wake up." I knelt beside the bed, placing my hands on her shoulders and shaking, telling myself she was just asleep. "Seriously, Chlo, this isn't funny. Wake up." I shook harder – she had to wake up. _She had to. _"Please, Chloe. Please." I stopped shaking her, instead slamming my fists into the bed beside her. "Fuck, Chloe. Just wake up!"

_For a long time, my darkness was the type that enveloped you, starved you of air, took away all semblance of hope. Then came Chloe. Chloe Beale - my light through the darkness. _

"911, what's your emergency?"

"It's my friend. She's won't wake up. Help, please."

_That light was flickering now, and the darkness was closing in._


	6. Chapter 6

"Your friend is in a critical condition, we detected excessive traces of aspirin in her system – as we're pending further investigation, we cannot fully determine the cause, but we are treating the case as an overdose. For now, there is not a lot we can do; it's all up to her now."

* * *

_ "Hey, Beca, wait up!" I turned as I heard the melody of her voice floating through the air in my direction, grinning as she half-jogged towards me. _

_"To what do I owe this pleasure?"_

_"I was going to text you, but I saw you across the quad and thought I'd deliver the message in person! What're you doing tonight?"_

_"You mean besides sitting in my room watching Dexter on my laptop?"_

_"You're obsessed with that show."_

_"Hey, Dexter is awesome! Don't knock it until you've tried it, Beale!"_

_"Okay, okay, but how about you ditch your favourite sexy sociopath for the night and hang out with me instead?"_

_"Aren't they kind of the same thing?" It had meant to be funny, but as the words left my mouth, I realised exactly what I'd said._

_"So you think I'm sexy, Mitchell?" She winked as she started to turn and walk away from me. _

_"I, um..." I felt colour flooding my cheeks as I tried to recover the situation, "I meant the sociopath part."_

_"Whatever, Becs," she smiled slyly, "6pm, my dorm room - don't be late!"_

* * *

I slammed my fists against the arm of the waiting room chair for what seemed like the hundredth time that day, flinching suddenly at the shrill tone emerging from the doors in front of me.

"Beca Mitchell, I swear to Christ if something happens to her, you are a dead woman." I didn't have it in me to argue, I just looked blankly across the room, taking little notice as Aubrey sat in the seat next to me, saying nothing more.

* * *

_I had a bad feeling about this. I wasn't sure what I was expecting when I turned up at Chloe's dorm that night, but being blindfolded in the front of her car certainly wasn't it. "Chlo, can you please tell me where on earth you're taking me?"_

_"It's a surprise, Beca – the whole point is that you don't know."_

_"Can I have a clue?"_

_"You'll love it." Before I had a chance to probe her for more information, I felt the car slow to a stop before she cut the engine. Outside the car, the world seemed alive with sound, the distant beat of music in the background overpowered by the loud chatter of people nearby. "We're here!" She almost squealed, clearly excited by the whole situation, "You're so going to love me for this."_

_"Can I take the blinfo-"_

_"No! Not until we're there. Wait there, I'll come round and show you where to go." Quicker than seemed possible, she opened the door beside me, grabbing my hands and guiding me out of the car and seemingly closer to the distant music. _

_"Where are we, Chlo?" _

_"We're here," she repeated with glee, but this time reaching up to untie the blindfold, "open your eyes!"_

_"Oh my god."_

_"Do you love it? I knew you'd love it!"_

_"Oh my god," I repeated, not quite believing my eyes, "Chloe, you're not serious."_

_"To quote Aubrey, Dixie Chicks serious." _

_"Oh my god." In front of us were the words 'For One Night Only: Taylor Swift'. I tried and failed to hide the smile that crept onto my face._

_"You totally love it! Don't go all bad-ass on me now, Mitchell, I've seen your iPod. I know things."_

_"I hate you."_

_"You love me."_

_"Hmm…" I thought for a second, knowing we'd passed the point of no return, "tell anyone, and I'll kill you."_

_"Secret's safe with me, now come on!" She grabbed my hand and pulled me through the doors into the venue. I've never really been sure how to pinpoint it, but I'd say that was definitely one of the moments I felt myself falling in love with Chloe Beale._

* * *

"Beca? Beca, wake up."

"Mmmf," I mumbled as somebody shook my shoulder, before a dull ache began to spread down my back from the position I'd been sitting in. Suddenly, I remembered all too quickly where I was, and why I was there. "Is she okay? What's happened, is she okay?"

"She stable. She hasn't woken up yet, and the doctors say it could be anything from a few hours to a few days, but she's stable. She's alive, Beca. They think she's going to be okay." Before I knew what had come over me, I flung my arms around Aubrey's neck; tears I didn't realise were falling forming dark circles on her shirt. I pulled back as soon as I realised what I was doing, wiping the tears furiously from my eyes.

"Sorry, that was weird. I'm just, I thought I'd lost her."

"You love her, don't you?"

"I guess I kinda do." I can't remember if I even felt the tiniest semblance of regret in admitting that, and to Aubrey of all people, I just remember the complete sense of relief the fell over me. She was okay. Or, at least, she would be.

"She'll be okay." Aubrey squeezed my hand, and I didn't flinch like I normally would have, instead letting myself relax slightly for the first time that day.

* * *

_"911, what's your emergency?"_

_"It's my friend. She won't wake up. Help, please."_

_"What's your address?"_

_"We're on Barden Campus, um… 7 Brentwood House."_

_"Okay, Ma'am, an ambulance is on its way, but I need you to stay on the phone with me, okay?"_

_"Okay."_

_"Okay, I need you to check that your friend is still breathing, and that all of her airways are clear, can you do that for me?" The rhythmic rise and fall of Chloe's chest hadn't changed since I'd entered the room - in, out, in, out, just like she was sleeping. Choking back a sob, I spoke into the phone._

_"She's breathing. She just looks like she's sleeping…But she's not, she can't be because she's a really light sleeper and I can't wake her up. She won't wake up." I could feel the panic building inside me again, the walls closing in around me._

_"Ma'am, as long as her airways are clear and she continues to breathe, there's nothing else you can do for her until the ambulance arrives, so I need you to try and calm yourself down, okay?"_

_"Okay," I repeated, although the voice at the other end of the phone seemed impossibly distant as I slumped against the edge of Chloe's bed. I didn't hear that voice again; in fact, I don't think I heard anything until the banging on the door. _

_"Hello? Is anyone in there? Open up!" I sprang across the room towards the door, swinging it open before slumping to the floor against the wall, defeated, watching helplessly as the paramedics surrounded her._

* * *

The waiting room doors once again swung open as a slightly balding man in scrubs walked towards us. "Chloe Beale's friends, I presume?" We both nodded affirmations, pressing him to continue. "I'm Dr. Lewis, I'm working this shift, and along with Dr. Gatens will be looking after your friend Chloe."

"How is she? Can we see her yet?" I urged, needing to see her, needing to know she was okay.

"As Dr. Gatens told you earlier, her condition has stabilised, and you will be able to see her shortly. Unfortunately, that's not what I'm here for. After further tests, your friend's plasma salicylate levels have shown to be at over 800mg, meaning she has extremely harmful levels of pain killers in her body, most likely aspirin. Acute overdoses range from 700-1400mg, so it could have been a lot worse, but all signs are pointing towards an intentional overdose. Of course, further investigation will take place after she has woken up, but we're doubtful there could be any other causes. She's been very lucky."

When you look back at the time you spent with someone, especially someone like Chloe, the good times always seem to outshine the bad, and certainly, everything has a sort of hazy glow to it that makes it almost impossible to see the cracks. But clearly, there were cracks. There must have been. Chloe Beale, my perfect tornado, my tiniest sliver of light, had her own special kind of darkness. The kind of darkness that envelopes you.

"You can see her now."


End file.
